Of the four public fasts that we observe to commemorate the events surrounding the destruction of the Temple, three are known only by their dates. Even the name of Tisha b'Av, which is by far the saddest and most important of those fasts, means simply the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av. Jewish tradition has never given it a name.

The only exception to that pattern is Tzom Gedaliah, which occurs on the day after Rosh Hashanah. That fast is named for Gedaliah ben Achikam, who was appointed governor by the Babylonians and subsequently assassinated, thus ending the last vestige of Jewish sovereignty. The fast that commemorates his death bears his name.

I recently heard Hakam Isaac Sassoon comment that every time the Book of Eicha (Lamentations), which we read on Tisha b'Av night, speaks of crying, it connects the tears not to the destruction of the Temple or of the physical structure of Jerusalem, but to the resultant suffering of the people. As Jews, we cry not for the destruction of buildings but for the pain and suffering of human beings.

Perhaps that's why we give a name to Tzom Gedaliah, but not to Tisha b'Av. Had we named Tisha b'Av after its central event, the destruction of the Temple, we would be giving the destruction of a building primacy over the anguish of human pain. The same would be true of the fast of Tevet, which marks the beginning of the siege of Jerusalem, and the fast of Tamuz, which marks the breach of the city walls.  Only in the case of Tzom Gedaliah, whose central event is the death of a human being, can we give the fast a name without risking that distortion.

Unconsciously but intuitively, the American people have exercised the same caution in naming the catastrophic event that befell us during this past year. Were we to refer to that event as the Trade Center attack, naming it after its most visible result, we might be understood as giving the destruction of the Twin Towers primacy over the deaths of the thousands who perished there. By denominating it instead simply as September 11 -- emphasizing, as we do on Tisha b'Av, the date rather than the central event -- we allow the human death and suffering to claim their rightful
place as the central focus of our grief.

Giving primacy to human suffering does not mean dismissing the importance of the more visible destruction -- of the Trade Center, in the case of September 11, or of the Temple in the case of Tisha b'Av.  In both cases the attack on the structure was inextricably linked to the death and suffering that accompanied it. The enemies of the American people attacked the World Trade Center on September 11 because it symbolized American economic might, which is the source of American strength.

And the enemies of the Jewish people attacked the Temple on Tisha b'Av because it symbolized the unique Jewish relationship with God, which was -- and is -- the source of Jewish strength.

Both enemies miscalculated, because they confused the symbol with the underlying reality. The events of September 11 have hurt the American economy, but it will bounce back because American economic power derives not from a building but from the determination and resourcefulness of the American people, and from the immense economic resources on which they can draw. The events of Tisha b'Av were a devastating blow to the Jewish spirit, but our people too bounced back -- because Jewish spiritual power derives from the determination and spiritual resourcefulness of the Jewish people, and from the unique spiritual resource on which we can draw, the Torah that God has given us and that we have preserved.

By reserving our tears for human suffering, we make clear that, we, unlike our enemies, have not confused symbol with substance. By our comprehension of the true tragedy of Tisha b'Av -- the immense suffering that it produced not merely in its time, but throughout the centuries of our exile -- we reaffirm the sanctity of human life, created in God's image, which is among the central values of Torah. One need look no further than each day's news reports to recognize just how unique that value is.

It is the spiritual resilience of the Jewish people, our relentless determination to preserve the heritage of Torah even amidst the tragedies of exile, that has enabled us to overcome the suffering that our exile has produced over the centuries. Each year we follow Tisha b'Av with the seven-haftarah sprint to Rosh Hashanah, reaffirming once again that the only true antidote to the spiritual exhaustion that Tisha b'Av represents is the spiritual renewal that only teshuva (repentance) can bring.

May the Almighty comfort our people as we mourn once again for Zion and Jerusalem, and may He soon bring us an end to further mourning, enabling us to complete in peace the spiritual tasks before us and thus pave the way for the ultimate Redemption.